"Alas... Forget it, is this the gap between fantasy and reality?"
Palr comforted himself, trying to co to terms with it all.
"Don’t overthink it, friend. You don’t need to ask these things," Ewen could understand Palr’s feelings at the mont; he had just used the sa tactic on Cinderella. "Also, don’t take my words too seriously. Sotis my answers can’t represent everything."
"But you’re the author! Those stories, characters—they’re things you wrote!" Palr lanted, Ewen’s answer undoubtedly sentenced all of his fantasies to death.
"No, you can’t think like that," Ewen patted Palr’s shoulder, "I’ve always thought that once an author writes a work, it no longer belongs to the author themselves."
Palr asked, "Do you an the ownership of the work’s copyright?"
Ewen was montarily stunned, "Huh?"
Palr didn’t really understand these things either, "Like, things like manuscript fees, profits, and so on?"
"No, no, I an the right to interpret the work," Ewen curiously took note of Palr’s way of thinking, he thought this was quite peculiar, "Compared to the author, I feel more like a narrator. The story doesn’t belong to ; I just happened to fantasize about it. When I narrate my fantasy to you, the fantasy becos independent of .
At that mont, the author dies."
"My thoughts don’t matter, my interpretations don’t either, just like a light has countless ways to be described, and my words are just one of them."
Ewen smiled, "I’ve always felt that creation itself is a process of sharing; so, readers are very important, like a stunning performance—even if it’s amazing, without an audience, it becos lonely and dull."
He continued softly, "Of course, the readers’ paid support is imnsely valuable."
Palr roughly understood Ewen’s words and continued, "So, I can just see all those interpretations you gave as nonsense?"
"If that makes you feel better, I think that’s okay."
Palr was silent for a while, clutching his chest once more as he experienced heartache again. What Ewen said was easy, but those darn words had already nailed themselves into Palr’s mind.
He wanted to forget the previous conversation to preserve the pure, beautiful impression of the work, but clearly, Palr couldn’t do it anymore.
An odd silence settled between the two, with Cinderella caught in the middle, feeling uneasy.
Palr said aningfully, "On that note, it really is surprising, Ewen."
Over the past few days, Palr had learned about Ewen’s story from Nolen. This renowned author had secretly been chasing knowledge of the Extraordinary World for decades.
Palr asked, "Just for creative inspiration?"
Ewen knew what he was asking, "What else?"
Palr cast his gaze on Cinderella, according to Ewen, she was Ewen’s niece, but the na of this niece sounded odd.
Cinderella, a na from the fairy tale Palr had read.
Palr asked, "And what about her?"
Cinderella’s good mindset had already caught Palr’s attention. Despite Palr’s various flaws, as a competent employee of the Order Bureau, he still knew how to prioritize things.
"An accident. I never thought I’d get involved in this kind of affair."
This part Ewen spoke truthfully; he simply wanted to visit Nolen, an old friend, but got caught up in the conflict between Zongge Orchestra and Unfettered Poetry Society.
Ewen added, "Besides, look at . If I had any sinister sches... would I be courting death?"
Palr thought carefully; indeed, if it weren’t for his critical rescue, Ewen almost died on Paradise, and no matter how he thought about it, Palr couldn’t imagine any malicious motives from Ewen. Ewen was just an ordinary person, purely ordinary. Not to ntion a Condenser; even the lowest Demon couldn’t be confidently handled by Ewen.
Ewen asked, "How are you going to deal with ?"
When ntioning these, Ewen’s breathing involuntarily tightened, the friendly reader interaction ca to an end, and the truly important segnt had just begun.
Now Ewen was sort of under house arrest on Horror, his life entirely decided by these mysterious Condensers, entrusting one’s fate to others was always unsettling.
Ewen asked, "mory erasure? I rember that’s your most commonly used thod."
"Hmm... I don’t know."
Palr shook his head, "That’s sothing the Logistics Departnt is responsible for, but... "
Suddenly, Palr’s expression beca furtive, he draped an arm around Ewen’s shoulders like an old buddy. Palr’s sudden enthusiasm made Ewen extrely uncomfortable, and imdiately Palr whispered to him.
"Let’s make a deal. If you agree, I’ll find a way."
Palr told Ewen his demands, initially Ewen was a bit worried, but then his expression turned peculiar, furrowing his brow, he looked at Palr with a strange gaze.
Judging by the content of the demand, Palr indeed was his crazy fan.
Ewen marveled, "How odd..."
...
As night fell, Bologue stood on the deck, gazing at the distant scenery. Due to the storm’s assault, the lights of Free Port had dimd considerably, like a vast sea of candlelight about to extinguish, flickering ceaselessly.
Through repeated tests, the properties of Constant tal were confird; it was unaffected by Curved Path power, thus could not pass through Curved Path Gate. This most convenient ans of movent was now ineffective.
Geoffrey suggested gathering so people to forcibly break the Constant tal and directly carry away the primordial object under Constant tal, but this proposal was strictly vetoed by Duwa.
"Didn’t you hear clearly? This is a container, an object protected by such special property tal must be an extrely reactive substance to Ether, we might just destroy the primordial object the mont we open the Constant tal!"
Duwa strongly demanded returning to the Sublimation Furnace Core to further cut the Constant tal, his stance was firm; if it weren’t for prior knowledge, Bologue would have thought Duwa was also a mber of the Sublimation Furnace Core.
After brief consideration, a new plan was devised, the Special Operations Group would remain on Horror for a while, waiting for reinforcents from Sixth Group and Violence Suppression Action Group.
This batch of reinforcents had been anticipated by Bologue; in the initial operation, the Special Operations Group and Violence Suppression Action Group set off consecutively, the Violence Suppression Action Group attracted the firepower for the Special Operations Group, engaged in continuous battles with Zongge Orchestra on the outskirts of Free Port for several days, and when the Paradise incident erupted, they rested in the wilderness.
Upon successful recovery of Gold and the information on Constant tal, the Violence Suppression Action Group was approaching Free Port. This ti, they would return to the Order Bureau with the Special Operations Group, escorting the operation.
This news made Bologue feel more assured about the return journey. With such a group of Origin School Condensers present, they would not just gain power significantly, relying solely on Yas’ Silence and Prohibition could cause endless trouble for the enemy, not to ntion collaborating with Geoffrey’s Tiger Eye, one sealing Ether, the other immobilizing the body, enemies below the Negative Power Tier, to them, were just like targets.
Groups of Origin School Condensers, regardless of whom they faced, had the ability to fight.
Footsteps sounded from behind, very light, like a nimble deer stepping over dry fallen leaves, difficult to discern from the wind without careful listening.
Bologue knew who had arrived, Geoffrey’s footsteps were heavier, Lebius wouldn’t let anyone perceive footsteps, and as for Palr, he would make a loud greeting first, then frolicingly approach.
Aimou leaned against the railing, "You seem a bit restless."
"Thinking about so things."
Bologue didn’t specify what kind of things, and seeing this, Aimou didn’t pursue the question further.
Their conversation lapsed into silence, the surrounding filled only with the sound of the sea wind; Aimou felt her cheeks slightly warm and flushed from the sea breeze.
Aimou looked for a topic, "Have you tried the local specialty cuisine of Free Port?"
Bologue shook his head, he wasn’t hungry, just had so crackers for dinner.
"How was the taste?"
"Terrible, very terrible."
Aimou shook her head vigorously; she felt she would never get used to the sailors’ food. Then she raised her hand and placed it on Bologue’s head, a phantom palm overlapping with Bologue, while Aimou recalled the taste of the food.
"How do you feel?"
"So odd."
Aimou affird, "Right!"
"No, I ant your behavior is odd."
Bologue turned helplessly. Aimou seed to want to dig out his brain, "But honestly, this food’s taste is even odder."
"Haha, right! Right!"
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